The Lucky One
by Lucaduca
Summary: "So let me get this straight… me accepting the imprint would be like unleashing the wolf from its cage?" My body quivered from the single finger tracing my nose. "His face stretched into a lazy grin as he tweaked the end of it, "Exactly."
1. Addled Boy (Man?)

Disclaimer: If you recognize it I probably don't own it.

"I think you should be more careful when you are taking Snots for a walk." My sister stared me in the eye. She has always been over-paranoid. What bad could happen in La Push?

Nothing.

It was the same thing day after day.

Get ready.

School.

Homework.

Dinner.

Sleep.

Though something would change occasionally, like going out with my sister, Lillian, to a local restaurant. "A local restaurant" is an overstatement considering it was the only restaurant; "Sue's" was a homestead for the people in La Push.

I continued to stare at my sister as she yapped on about "wolves," "killings," and "not safe." She had always been overprotective. She had become worse ever since she married Eric Applegate and moved to Seattle. Something about not being here twenty-four seven to make sure I was alright. Taylor wasn't ever this bad.

Lillian has always been sweet, and with her large, brown eyes she reminded me of a doe. Not in the timid way, but in the willing to protect her young with a ferocity way. So much like our mom, it was uncanny.

I put my hand on top of hers; her hand was warmer and softer. "I will stray towards the more popular areas, I promise."

That was the absolute truth. There have been rumors of giant bears and I wasn't willing to test it. Sure, I knew the basic survival tricks against a bear, but I am not positive that I could apply them in the situation.

We continued on like that: her giving long speeches and me giving her the shortest answers that I could. It was routine between us. Something that was normal.

Normal until we heard the chime of the door and loud laughter coming through to us. We both looked up at the same time.

Six men.

Six beautiful men.

I could practically feel every girl and woman take a collective sigh.

The La Push Gang aka The Unattainable. Something that my friend had come up with after trying to catch their attention often, and sadly failing repeatedly.

It was easy to see why; Sam Uley had Emily Young who was beautiful even after the bear attack (another reason why I wasn't willing to walk Snot's anywhere near the woods). Jared Cameron and Kim Hewitt where inseparable and Kim has had a crush on him since she was a kid. Quil Ateara was most likely gay because he never took any interest in girls and spends his days dressing up as a princess for Emily's daughter or something. Seth was, well ... not really a man, considering he was our age, but he had the looks of a man. Probably why his sister's best friend became a cradle robber.

That left Embry Call and Paul Lahote. Both were very off limits and that made them more attractive. Embry had the sweet and caring vibe while Paul was rugged and passionate.

They grabbed a large table close to the door and happily (in my opinion) in open viewing to Lillian and I.

I sighed in content as I looked at their beautiful bodies and glanced at my sister. Her eye was twitching my direction, a twitch I have come to recognize as a sign of irritation ...Maybe she needs to get that checked out; it can't be healthy.

"Honestly, Holly!" She talked loud and most of the time it didn't bother me, but I could feel myself sinking in my seat. "I would think that you had more dignity than to stare at a group of overdeveloped boys," I could feel myself sinking into a puddle on the floor, "that are most likely taking drugs. You have to know that..."

I could feel myself sinking past the floorboards. Puddle me probably looked like blood considering how hot my face felt. I mumbled some incoherent things like, "am not." I could hear the small chuckles from everyone in the restaurant, including about six very manly ones. I kept my eyes on the yellowing place mats. How embarrassing.

My sister was right. They didn't have a good rep around the people from the reservation; the Elders, on the other hand, thought they were the best thing that ever happened in years. They called them the "protectors" and that was absolute bull. I glanced up at their table where they had (thankfully) gone back to talking amongst themselves. I had never once seen them protect anything, not that they had a chance to. La Push was probably one of the safest places on Earth. I don't think there have been any murders in more than four decades.

They did help my Gran carry her groceries out to her car last week when it was raining particularly hard. That wasn't the greatest thing any person had ever done, though. Josh Lincoln had told me earlier at school that he was going over to Gran to help her before Seth Clearwater had swooped in to help.

It was all bull.

They were scary, to boot it all off. It was proven when Jared Cameron hit Paul Lahote in the back of the head. Any person in a half mile radius could hear the sickening crack. The scariest thing was that Paul acted like it was just a light pat on the head. His brains where probably addled from the drug use.

Defiantly addled.

Because the next thing I knew, his eyes were on me. Now, don't get me wrong, I may have avoided him even before the "Big Change," but I honestly don't remember his eyes being that cloudy or his facial expression being so ... lost. Like he was a man hooked on something and not being able to get to it.

Drugs. They were all on drugs.

"You're right," I broke contact with the addled boy (man?) to look at my sister. "They are on drugs."

AN: Hey! I have had this story for a while and couldn't help myself. Do you think it is worth continuing? Also do you think that Holly is a Mary-sue?


	2. Please Don't Leave Me

Disclaimer: I don't own anything written or mentioned by the original author.

School had never been a problem with me, considering that Mrs. Blake is the English teacher at La Push High School. Mrs. Blake could bat her big, doe eyes at any male or female teacher and have them groveling at her feet. The only bad thing about this was the fact that she could do the same to the students.

The worse thing was that Mrs. Blake was Penelope Blake, my mother. She'd heard the swiftest of conversations about one of the "protectors" and her own daughter, and she went into information gathering mode.

She was scarily correct when she reported the "Proof of Drug Abuse" incident (PODA for short). She knew more than I did, when she went on from how after my breaking eye contact with the addled boy, he had stormed out and ran into the trees.

"Now, how do you feel about this?" Ah... no longer was she Mrs. Blake the English teacher; she was now Mrs. Blake the counselor.

I felt my forehead crease into ugly worry lines. "I feel that it is an unfortunate turn of gossip." Better to leave her in the unknown than get her riled up about something that didn't really mean anything.

"Oh, really?" Her plucked left eyebrow rose delicately.

"Really." I could feel my much bushier eyebrow rise to taunt hers. My whole family could lift our eyebrows at command and it was awesome when we got together and did it.

I always lost staring contests because just now, I could feel my eyes tearing up and burning like the fires of hell. She knew she won the second her eyebrow fell down.

Her small hand grabbed mine as her eyes softened. Now there was the transition between Mrs. Blake the counselor mode and Mommy mode. My favorite mode.

She rubbed her thumbs over my wrist as she continued weighing her words so they came out right. Mom was the master of empathy and knew how to place the words to cater to someone's needs.

"Just promise that if something life-changing happens," she told me, her eyebrows furrowed down to her eyes, "that you will do what is best for you."

_What does she think? I met my soul mate or something of that realm?_

I nearly guffawed at in her face, and I would have if her eyes weren't looking at me so seriously.

I continued to look at her to see if at any time she would fling a pie in my face, telling me it was a joke and to think nothing of the encounter.

It never came and I could feel myself start to quiver. Whatever this was, I didn't want in on it. I didn't care if they had the answer to life, or they wanted to tell me something like the old legends are true and they are the Spirit Wolves.

Nevertheless, I told her, "I promise."

.

..

...

Snots was a warrior. A warrior that knew no boundaries.

Snots was the escape artist, because one second I was looking at the book store display case, and the next I was hunting for the fifteen pound demon spawn. How something with the head of Mount Everest could wiggle his way out of it was beyond my knowing.

My knowing did succeed into the fact that he was a demon spawn just by going to one of the main demons.

Addled boy (man?) was crouching down towering over his minion, giving him a customary _thank you_ scratch. Traitor.

From the second I saw them, addled boy's (man's?) gaze never left mine, and I could feel the heat spreading across my whole body.

His whole body arched as he slowly stood up. Probably very cliché, but his body was probably perfect.

Perfect in a "God created me to make woman putty with a single glance" kind of way.

Perfect in a way that when he walked, he looked like he was only ghosting across the pavement.

Perfect in the way he talked, strong and smooth. The way his words ghosted over my name saying was perfectly, like he'd practiced it repeatedly.

My name.

He was talking to me.

I'm not proud to say that I was putty.

"Holly." His voice was strong and definite and I could feel myself sinking even lower into the pavement.

_Drugs... Remember the drugs._

"Addled Man," I said weakly. Definitely a man, in my own opinion.

Eyebrows furrowed, deep set eyes, sexy pout...

_Drugs._

_Remember the drugs._

I felt my face heat up as we just stood there, him looking at me while I tried not to stare at his stomach. Who didn't wear a shirt in February? Obviously the addled.

"Uh," I stammered. Smoothest way to start a conversation ever.

"This is your dog," he implied. It wasn't a question, and his eyes seemed to follow my every movement. "What kind is he?"

He was prompting me, something I wasn't familiar with. People usually let me go my own way and I couldn't help from answering, "a pug." Short and quick answers suited me just fine, but they didn't suit him apparently, because his face twisted into aggravation.

He had a bad temper that was very easy to see. I stood there and watched his face sink back into calmness. Something that seemed very hard to do.

My heart began racing as he gently took my clenched hand and began untangling the collar from it. He was gentle and his hands where hot. It seemed to melt my hands along with what little of my mind I had gotten back.

He hooked the collar around Snots' hand with the same amount of gentleness he had used on me, and he was talking again. Something about full body collars and how I needed to be careful around the woods. I could only nod stupidly as he handed the collar back over to me.

He looked behind him as if seeing something I couldn't with the thick overgrowth of the woods and with a quiet, "Be careful." I watched him go with something on the tip of my tongue.

It sounded a lot like, "Please don't leave me."

AN: Chapter 2! Hope you all liked it. If you don't mind me asking how realistic do you think Holly's thoughts and movements are to a actual person? Does she have the beginnings of a Mary-sue? What did you like or not like about this chapter?

The main thing I would like to announce is that my BETA for this story is the most amazing BETA I have ever had. So a round of applause to **MusicTwilightLove.**


	3. There Went My Heart Again

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you regonize.

I made a decision when I got home: I wasn't going to think about Paul Lahote anymore. So, of course I did the exact opposite of that all throughout dinner and my homework.

He had a temper, that was for sure. It had been proven many times over the years. Josh Lincoln from school had said that when his brother was in high school with Paul, he'd been sent into the principal's office everyday for getting into fights. After the change, he'd been sent home whenever someone even blinked an eye at him.

It was easy to see just by my quiet words earlier that day how quick Paul's temper flared up. The truth of the matter was that I was scared of him.

_Scared._

People were only supposed to be afraid of things that go bump in the dark, not an addled man that they had only talked to once.

Why couldn't I get him out of my head?

It felt like a pull that I couldn't break away from; I tried to lose myself in my homework multiple times and each time it failed.

The next day was worse. I thought that maybe all the work would help get him out of my head, but I found myself writing "Paul" within hearts all over my Chemistry test. The test was left undone.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

The wrong was standing out in the parking lot after I left school.

_Just walk quickly_ was the mantra in my head. I failed because the next thing I knew, the addled man had skidded in front of me.

"Holly." His voice was too deep for it to be fair. A deep baritone that seemed to grab everything that was in its reach, like my heart, which seemed to be pulling out of my chest.

I smiled carefully at him as I looked him over; he didn't look like he was on drugs. "Hello, Paul," I said. His name tasted like saltwater taffy in my mouth, thick and sweet.

His smirk spoke a thousand words, and I didn't even know one. I felt the heat of his hand before it touched my own. My hands where much smaller than his in mass. "Let me drive you home," he offered, tugging my hand towards his truck.

I could only nod as he slowly led me over to the passenger seat and helped me in. His warmth seemed too deep past my clothes as his fingertips grazed my waist. His car smelled like peppermint and something similar to Old Spice.

Paul slid into the driver's seat and started the car. He seemed sober... Could drug abusers be that fluent in their moves?

"What's your favorite flower?" he queried.

I looked at him in surprise. He didn't look at me when he asked. Actually, he was the most focused driver I had ever seen, like he driving to protect the most valuable thing in the universe.

"I love sunflowers," I replied. I glanced over at him. He seemed to be listening. "They remind me of warmth."

He had a small smile on his face, and for some unknown reason, that made me feel happy.

So I threw him another bone. "My second favorite is holly," I added, grinning at him, "but I may be conceited."

I didn't get the laugh I wanted from him, but I did get a glance and a slightly brighter smile.

"You're not conceited," he opposed. He glanced over my direction seeming to gauge my reaction. "I think holly is very beautiful."

I blushed. I tried not to but the heat rose, anyway. I went quiet after that and so did he. The last comment lingered in the air.

It was awkward. So awkward I almost didn't feel the shaking of the car.

It was him.

He seemed to be vibrating, and his clenched fist was making a crunching sound on the steering wheel.

Then I did something stupid. I reached over and grabbed his arm. It wouldn't have been too bad if it didn't shock me like an electric current. It seemed to start through my fingertips and snake down to my toes. It felt like the time I stuck a fork into an outlet.

His head snapped to mine as he swerved off the road to the front of my house. His eyes weren't cloudy; they were the clearest pair of eyes I have ever seen. Deep brown like the sycamore tree bark, and unwavering.

He had me trapped without meaning to, and I could not let go of his arm. The truck had stopped shaking but it had only moved on to me.

We stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity before I was able to pry my fingers from his forearm. I'd just wanted to calm him but now I had worked up myself. I fumbled with the door latch, finally getting it open with a "thank you" thrown at him, and escaped from the hot caverns of his truck.

I almost went into a seizure when a warm hand wrapped around my bicep and pulled me halfway back into the truck.

I looked into my hands as he shoved something into them; it was too dark to see what it was. I slowly slid back out and grabbed the door for a little support. He wasn't so bad, and I haven't seen that much suspension for drugs. Only at the restaurant.

"Thank you again, Paul," I told him. My smile was probably too wide and the gap between my teeth was probably too wide as well, but the returning smile was worth the embarrassment.

I closed the door as quickly as I could without seeming rude, and all but ran into the warm house. It was stupid, really, because all I did was peek out the window to watch him go. He started up the truck and rolled away from the house slowly. My heart was on "let's try to get out" mode until a good five minutes after he left.

In my left hand was a collar. A full body collar for Snots.

There went my heart again.

AN: Here's chapter three! How well do you I have portrayed Paul to be canon? Is there anything specific you liked more or less? This is as much your story as it is mine and I am open to suggestions. :)

Another round of applause for **MusicTwilightLove!**


	4. Eternity

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.

When I was in elementary school, the other children used to call me "Asian eyes." They'd thought they were funny, but I'd thought it was one of the worst insults they could throw at me. Not only had they been making fun of my small eyes, but they'd also been racist.

But I could see why they had made fun of them; my eyes were constantly squinty and turned down at the edge. Taylor, my brother, had said they reminded him of a scolded puppy. He had meant it as a compliment, but to a six-year-old-girl, the comment stung.

I hardly ever wore makeup, not that I found anything wrong with it; I was just too lazy to do it every morning. So that was probably why when I came downstairs this morning, my father stopped his cooking as I sidled into the table.

Dad could be classified as handsome if you put one hand over your left eye and squinted very hard with the right. Dad lucked out with Mom when they were young. He found her to be the most beautiful thing he ever laid eyes on, and she found him to be the funniest thing she had ever seen. Both true, in my opinion.

He set a plate of eggs and toast in front of me and waited until I started eating to start his "knowledge of the great universe" talks.

"Gestures in love," he began, "are incomparably more attractive, effective, and valuable than words." I nearly spat out the toast I was chewing on. "That's a quote from Francois Rabelais, a famous French Renaissance writer, doctor, and monk," he said, winking at me and starting to set the dirty dishes in water to soak.

Dad always looked up quotes and memorized them in his free time. He always seemed to know the write words for every situation. It wouldn't be weird, either, if he was a historian instead of a dry cleaner.

_Blake's Famous Dry Cleaners_. Famous because every time someone went into the place, they were bombarded with mysterious quotes so correct to their situation. It had them running out of the place and risking the drive to Forks.

"The man whose knowledge wanders," I started as I put my dishes into the water and met Dad's eyes, "shall not want to know the truth."

Dad's eyes wandered up towards the ceiling, like he was searching for an answer. "I've never heard that quote before."

"You haven't," I yelled back through the front door as I bolted into the rain to get to school. "I made it up."

I didn't hear much of a reply, only Snots' farewell barks, which led me back to the situation: makeup. I would be lying if I said it wasn't for Paul Lahote. Even though I probably wouldn't see him today, I felt the need to prep my face in case of an encounter.

I had started to regret it as soon as I saw the school and Abby, too, my best friend, waiting for me at the entrance. I could practically hear the unspoken questions bouncing around in her head. Abby was considered one of the smartest kids in school and she played the part nicely. She was quiet and didn't ask questions, if she felt she was being invasive. I could see, though, that she was having a hard time keeping her mouth plugged.

I couldn't blame her, either; I was practically dying to tell someone. That was what I did as soon as I saw her. We passed notes all throughout first period, having to break off to go to second block, only to return to hushed whispers during lunch.

"I do not know what to think of it all," she told me. She was frowning at herself, extremely unhappy not having the answer to it.

I sighed as I rubbed my forehead. A headache had begun to appear right after talking to my father, and had changed into a full grown migraine. We came to one conclusion by the end of the day, though... Well, Abby did.

I was being shallow by letting a bunch of rumors cloud my vision, and that if I just lifted them away I could admit to myself that I did have a crush on Paul Lahote.

So that's what I did at the end of the day when I walked outside after the bell. He was waiting on me like the part of me that hoped he would be by his truck. He held out his hand towards me and I walked to it. He was beautiful, something I'd thought I wouldn't think about a man. His eyes were perfectly spread apart. Not too thin, not too wide. His nose held a slight bump but it made him look more rugged. It took everything in me to turn my head away from his features.

"Let me drive you home," he said. It wasn't a question because I had a feeling that I was going with him whether I liked it or not. His voice was too demanding and low to really argue the point, anyway. I let him help me into his truck again. The burn was still there when he lifted me up. He walked to the other side slower than he had yesterday. It was fine by me; it gave me a chance to calm my heart.

His vision was focused on the road when I found my voice. "What's your favorite animal?" I asked. It was _me_ prompting _him_ this time, and I'm sad to say that I stuttered once or twice.

"A wolf," he replied. The smile he gave me seemed to be laughing in its own right, and that gave me the courage to ask a second question.

I got lost for the words for a second but I did get them out. "What's your favorite movie?"

He glanced at me for half a second, taking a bit before answering. "_Tropic Thunder_," he answered. He paused for second. "Anything Ben Stiller, really."

"'I am a rooster enigma,'" I quoted, laughing. And for the first time, I saw him laugh. When he laughed, he did it right. He tipped his head back a bit and just laughed. His voice was probably one of the smoothest I had ever heard, but his laugh was the best thing I had heard in a very long time.

Funny how much a sound can make you find out about yourself, such as I loved his deep voice. It soothed me more than anything, and I never had much of a preference before now.

But I wanted more and I had a big round of pout when he pulled in front of my house; I didn't want to leave the warmth of his car or his was equally warm presence. My father was home, though, and I could already hear another quote ready to be thrown at me. The longer I put it off, the longer it would be.

I resigned to my fate as I turned back to Paul. He was looking at me. I wished it made me uncomfortable; all I felt, though, was a nice warm pit begin to pour into my stomach.

He spoke first. "Tomorrow is Saturday." A statement. He was good at those. I egged him on with a nod.

"I was wondering," he began, his hands fidgeting, not shaking. I figured that Paul and shaking were not a good mix. "If you would like to go to the beach with me tomorrow."

I responded too quickly but he didn't seem to notice. "Yes."

He was smiling like every worry was melted away, and my heart constricted. I want to keep it that way. "How about I pick you up at noon ?" he asked.

"Perfect," I replied. I was boosting his ego a bit and I honestly didn't care. "See you tomorrow, Paul." I all but copied my movements from yesterday: nearly slamming the door shut, running for the house, and, of course, pulling the curtains back to watch him go as soon as I could get to them.

"Handsome man," said a lazy voice from behind me. I felt my spine straighten up as I turned around to find my brother on the couch. He wasn't looking at me but at the TV, and I felt myself mentally preparing for the battle that was to come. Taylor was handsome by every rule most girls set up: tall and dark, with dark eyes and a perfect smirk. It just pissed me off.

"Reminds of a dog, chasing after you like some kind of pedoph—" His comment was interrupted by the glass rat figurine that was standing by the door. I didn't hit him with it, but it did shatter against the wall. In my defense, that thing scared me every time I walked through the door.

I had more things to worry about, considering Taylor was standing up from his place on the couch and glaring at me. He grabbed the nearest thing he could reach—the lamp—and chucked at me. I barely dodged as I started grabbing the shoes that had begun to pile up as I threw them at him, two at a time.

I barely heard dad over the glass breaking and thudding. "Siblings are the people we practice on. The people who teach us about fairness and cooperation and kindness and caring quite often the hard way."

I sighed as the TV remote hit me particularly hard in the face. It was going to seem like an eternity until noon tomorrow.

AN: My little birdies of paradise, how did you like it? Do you like Taylor, Abby, and the Father? How's Paul ;)?

See you soon,

Lucaduca

PS: I have some pictures on my profile of how I think the characters should look; you are in no way obligated to go look at them. Sometimes the characters you picture in your head are not the way others perceive them.


	5. My Protector

Disclaimer: I don't own the Twilight series.

My mother was probably crazy. Who in their right mind would think that forcing their daughter into a seat, straitening said daughters burning scalp, would be a great idea?

But here we were, my scalp feeling like it was going to be pulled out. She had woke me up two hours before in hopes that I wouldn't botch my date with one of the "protectors." I had to give in to her way, though, because I honestly thought she thought Annie and I had something going on. If going out with Paul Lahote kept her on the path for grandchildren by the thousands, then she could trust my decision for going out with him.

She had her doubts, though she never spoke them. She did tell me to remember that "no means no" and "text me around one." Never outright spoken but clarified enough that I understood.

At eleven forty-five, she allowed me stand from the pain of all the makeup-induced tears and the itching from my head. I appreciated it more than she could imagine; I didn't look as screwy as I usually did. No acne scars or dark spots in a mile. It helped calm my nerves until I heard the knock on the door. I nearly went into hysterics at the sound.

Taylor got there before me and I could feel the dull headache from the remote-shaped bruise on my forehead. It took a bit more makeup then I would like to admit to cover it up.

When Taylor spoke he was just like Lillian, loud and abrasive. "Watch where your hands on are my little sister, Lahote."

I tried to push him away from the door—away from Paul before he got to see how weird my family was—and started running for the hills. It was useless; Taylor was like a brick wall when he wanted something, and something appeared to be putting Paul in his place.

It was funny how much of a shock went through me every time I heard his voice. "Get your hands off of me, you fucking asshole!" Paul bellowed. It was more of an shock when Taylor slid back a little from where he was standing.

"Who the hell do you think you are, coming to my door, expecting to take Holly out?" Taylor demanded. His hands were fluttering everywhere, something I have noticed he did when he was mad. "Then pushing me away when I tried to give you fucking ground rules."

"You want to know who I am?" Paul challenged. I could practically feel Paul move across the inch between him and Taylor. My head began shaking. _No, I don't want Taylor to know who you are. I want Taylor to believe that you had some control over your temper. Taylor's an overprotective angry control freak._ "I am motherfucking Paul La—"

I didn't know how I managed it, but I finally shifted my weight enough to make Taylor move back enough to dart outside the house. Taylor looked behind him for a moment, as if to see where I had gone. It was just enough time to grab Paul's very hot hand and drag him to the truck.

I never stood a chance trying to force him to the car. I did stand a chance at holding his hand, though. It was burning up between the two of mine, but they weren't sweating like mine were. I took my hands away from his as we got into his truck and wiped them on my jeans to eliminate the wetness, only to have one pulled back into his grasp.

His shaking had subsided by the time he started the engine, and I felt the need to apologize about my shit-eating brother but I couldn't think of the words that would do it best.

_Hey Sex God of the Universe,_

_Sorry about my shit-breathed brother who doesn't understand the meaning of motherfucking space._

_Sincerely,_

_A girl who wants to get into your pants._

It wouldn't have come out right, though. And besides, he would just get angry.

I glanced out of the side of my eye in what I thought was a smooth move, but he turned to me as soon as I started and met my gaze.

His eyes where outstanding; they didn't waver like I felt mine were doing, and I could feel the sensation in all those romance novels Lillian liked to read. I read them, too, but that wasn't something I wanted to blurt out every chance I got. I was a romance lover in the closet.

I hardly lost the heat when he let go of my hand to switch gears. He was so smooth in the motions that after a while I couldn't even tell when he did it.

"Have you ever been to a bonfire?" he asked. I looked down at the hand around mine that seemed to tighten around my own. His face had an angry grimace spread across it. "I'm such a goddamn idiot," he said, "of course you have. You live on a reservation for Christ's sake."

"Don't say the Lord's name in vain," I interrupted him, "and I haven't been in a few years, to answer your question." I looked over at him and wish I hadn't. If looks could kill, then I would be six feet under.

He turned his attention back to the road after a few more moments of awkward staring. Well, awkward for me.

"Would you like to hear the stories again?" he asked. He took a deep breath. "There's going to be one tonight and I understand if you wouldn't want to go with me, considering we will be together most of the day and you are probably getting tired of me already…"

The rambling abruptly stopped, and I didn't know why. It was either because of my facial expression (that I was sure looked like a constipated walrus) or to concentrate on parking in the deserted parking lot. I was going for the second answer to save myself the embarrassment.

"I'd like that," I finally answered. I'd only taken too long to reply because he was looking at me with uncertainty. I couldn't win in the answering department, it seemed. "I mean it," I clarified. I tried assuring him, but he still had a worry line indented into his forehead. Even his frown lines made me weak at the knees.

I got out of the truck and turned back to him. "You coming?" I called. He just sat there. He sat there for way too long and it was making me incredibly nervous. I could feel my throat start to close up right before he rubbed his. It was as if he could feel it.

It scared me.

But he bolted out of the door before I could give it much thought, stopping only to grab a basket out of the bed of the truck and my hand.

He looked back at me from where I was trying to keep up with his long strides. I didn't know what to expect: him to slow down or pick up the speed? Those weren't even close to him swinging me into his arms to keep up his pace. I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't take off into full swing and my face didn't feel like it was burning up.

But he was fucking hot, in both senses. I could feel the ridges of his abs through my shirt and the death grip my arms had around his neck was about to burn right off. Was someone supposed to have a temperature that high?

My eyes trailed from my arms to his face. He was definitely a brute. A brute in the nicest terms possible, like a puppy brute or a wolf brute. Defiantly a puppy-wolf brute. I was contradicting myself even in my thoughts.

Puppy-Wolf Brute was really handsome, and his eyes seemed to welcoming when glanced down at me, moving the picnic basket around so it wasn't stabbing me in the ass every time he moved.

I didn't know Paul, but I wanted to know him, and that made all the difference. Sure, I liked guys. In fact, I had a crush on Sam Uley for most of my childhood and preteen years, but I never actually wanted to know him for more than his looks; he never had much of a personality. He'd grown up too fast and too hard after his father skipped out when his mother got pregnant. And his mother... His mother was not a nice person, to say the least.

From the little snippets I had cared to listen to, Paul hadn't had the best life when he was growing up either. His mother had been a pill taker and she one time took too many, passing away in her sleep. I didn't know many good things about his father, though, and I wanted to know _more_.

He put me down too soon and I was already longing to be back in his arms. I restrained myself... barely. I looked around to see that we were far away from civilization, something my mother had reminded me to be careful of twenty times that morning. I couldn't find it in me to care.

"Sorry," he began, his voice gruff from where he was setting down the blanket, "if you expected a restaurant." He was practically growling from not being able to get the side of the blanket to lie still. I grabbed a few small rocks from nearby to lay them on the corners of the blanket. "It's not my type of environment."

I bent down in the sand, so close to him I could feel the heat radiating off of his body. He really needed to get that checked out. He motioned his hands away so I could lay a rock on the edge. "I'm glad you didn't…" I replied. I was going to elaborate, but his gaze met mine and that's as far as it went.

"You're glad I didn't what?" he asked. I looked away from his eyes I cleared my throat, searching for the answer.

"I don't remember," I told him honestly. I remembered to this time to not look him in the eye before I spoke.

I expected a bitchy retort like "that's bullshit," but instead, he spoke softly as he reached into the basket and took out a sandwich and soda can. "I noticed in the restaurant the night I imp—_saw_ you with Lillian that you were eating turkey and drinking root-beer. It seemed to be the most likely thing you liked."

"They are the two substances I could live off of for the rest of my life," I replied. _Plus one more,_ I wanted to add, as I watched him relax slightly. I duly noted it was the first time he was wearing shoes in my presence. I liked his feet. They weren't fugly like my crooked toes and weird high arch. I was a creep in the lightest of terms.

"What's your favorite book?" he wondered. He seemed to relax even more as he started off on the questions and his fourth sandwich.

We sat there for four hours at the least. He asked the questions and made sure that I could give one-worded answers. I was glad for that, but I found myself elaborating in funny little tales that made him laugh a little. It made me feel important, and I could feel myself inching closer to him every few minutes. He was on his back by now and he was warm enough that I didn't feel the chill of the February ocean spray.

I barely got a question in otherwise, and even when I did, it was only a "what about you?" I could feel myself smiling despite hearing my mother's voice saying things like "don't smile too much or he thinks he has it in the bag." I learned that his favorite music was rock and his favorite color was brown. I laughed at his favorite color and he became cross with me for a bit. It all washed away, though, when I said, "next question."

We sat for a while, just listening to the ocean crash and recede. I had practically scooted as close as I could get without it seeming weird… Well, weirder than it was already. I tentatively reached out my fingers, put them on his bicep, and began to trace his muscles, when I felt him tremor. I shot my eyes up to his face to check and see if he was angry, but all I saw was a smile and eyes that seemed to pass right through me.

I traced his arm for a while longer before I felt him shift up and lean into me, putting his forehead against mine. I could smell him and it was startlingly how much I loved the smell. Peppermint and Old Spice. How could someone smell like fucking peppermint?

I felt myself drifting closer to him to get a better whiff of it, accidentally bumping his nose. His eyes were closed and adorned with a set of long eyelashes. It would have been a very nice sight if he didn't have two defined lines between his eyes.

I let out a gust of air I hadn't noticed I was holding, drifting back so I could get a good look at his face. His eyes snapped open and had me stopped in the moments.

It was a nice little spell we were under until I heard loud laughter and heavy footsteps coming from up the beach.

Paul stood up and hauled me up to my feet before I could put anything together. "Welcome to the pack."

"The pack?" I questioned as the hoard of people came closer. I could feel myself moving slightly behind Paul, because at this very moment he was my protector.

AN: Chapter 5 down! How do you like Holly? The romance that is starting to bloom between the two? I would like to give all the love in the world to my beta reader; MusicTwilightLove!

Hope you loved it,

Lucaduca


	6. My First Kiss

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you may recognize.

I didn't like Emily Young.

I hadn't liked her for a while, and nothing could begin to change that except for her strawberry cupcakes. They were soft, moist, and like little bites from heaven... except it wasn't heaven because Emily Young had made them.

She shouldn't have hurt Leah like that, stealing away that hunk of a man called Sam Uley. I was there with Leah when he came by and broke up with her. I'd been twelve years old and still being babysat… pathetic.

It had to be the worst thing experienced, seeing Leah devastated. That was when my crush for Sam ended; no one messed with my wonderful babysitter.

I tried to not show my disgust as Sam and Emily curled themselves around each other on the other side of Paul. Leah was sitting right fucking there!

Speaking of Paul, he had mustard on the corner of his mouth and I really wanted to wipe it off.

With a napkin, of course. Or with my tongue... I hated mustard but I could put up with the taste.

I looked to over at Leah. She was tearing into a hotdog like it did something wrong to her. Then again, Emily had made it, so it _did_ do something wrong to her.

Paul was talking to Emily now, and I no longer wanted to lick the mustard off of him; he was a traitor of the highest kind. He even insulted Leah!

Sighing down at the cupcake, I felt like a traitor for eating it. Paul had jumped up as soon as I'd finished my hotdog and chips to get it. I couldn't _not_ eat the cupcake; he had punched Collin Littlesea in the face to get the last one.

But I couldn't just eat it. I thought of giving it to Leah because she was the only one who wasn't a traitor, but it felt like I was rubbing the terrible relationship into her face.

I looked around trying to figure out a way to "accidentally" destroy it. I couldn't drop it in the sand; Paul caught it every time and started giving me odd looks after the fifth "slip of the hand." I couldn't give it away because Paul had caused so much trouble getting it for me… poor Collin. That meant the only thing I could do was eat it.

It was good.

It was _really_ good. I could practically feel my eyes rolling back in my head.

I was such a fucking traitor.

I felt Paul rub my arm, as if sensing my distress. I wanted to shake him off, but he was being too nice... and I could feel his muscles through his shirt.

Josh Lincoln from school had told me that it was a girl's kryptonite.

"Holly?" Paul questioned.

"Hm," I murmured. I shouldn't have to deal with my inner battle; I should know what I want, but going over to Leah meant leaving the warmth of Paul.

"Emily asked you a question." He spoke the name with such adoration, it kinda made me jealous.

"I didn't hear it," I said to him, hoping to put off any conversation with her.

_Please let her say never mind like I do when I ask someone a question and have to repeat it._

She was just too perfect, though. "I was just wondering where you got your boots."

I didn't want to answer, but I was put under peer pressure from Paul's stare.

"I don't remember," I lied. I'd actually gotten them with Leah when she'd taken me to Seattle a year ago. I was betraying her trust if I told Emily the truth.

I also didn't want anyone to find them and start wearing them all the time. Then I couldn't wear them because of the rules of feminism. Rule number five: No one shall adorn the same shoes as another woman.

Emily was sad. Good. "Oh…"

Well, maybe not good anymore because Sam was staring me down with an intimidating nature.

Why was I attracted to him, though? His abs.

I looked back at Leah who had a smirk on her face. It was good to know that she knew that I was on her side. I could relax now. Partially.

Not really, though; Sam was glaring at me too much. I could feel my eyes glaring at Paul's nipple; he had taken off his shirt after I told him I was cold. It was a lie. How could I not be warm when I was pressed against his glories side? I just liked him a lot better when he was without a shirt.

I was trying to turn my body toward the opposite direction of where Emily was sitting. Seth was sitting beside—way too close—and whenever I tried to turn a little bit, I ended up halfway in his lap. Paul made sure to turn me in the opposite direction, right back towards Emily and halfway into his own lap.

I was less bashful towards Seth since the rest of the pack—odd nickname—came, but they had all acted like a pack of wolves when the food came out.

"Are you normally this weird?" Paul asked me. I turned towards him and I could feel my mouth gaping wide... You just didn't ask those questions in public, no matter if someone was acting weird or not.

I stilled myself for the cold, and I jumped up. "No," I replied. It did no good; the mist of the cold ocean seemed to slay me, and I had half the mind to jump back into Paul's open arms. I stood my ground in the end and made the descent next to Leah's equally warm body.

No more guilt, except from the hurt glances Paul was throwing in my direction as I scooted closer next to Leah's long body. I could take it in the end if he didn't feel a little bit mad at Sam and Emily, and there blatant disregard for people's feelings.

It also helped that Leah's expression lightened a bit when I sat down, and her body relaxed a bit. Now that that was done and I was no longer a traitor it was time to make Paul a traitor. He would be a good traitor. Tall, dark, and handsome was the stereotype for the traitor league.

"How do you like the bonfire so far?" Leah asked me. Her voice was like a mother kissing a boo-boo even after all these years, and I could feel myself relish in it.

I answered Leah without taking my gaze away from Paul, whose eyes were fierce that I nearly moaned… _Moaned_. I was becoming a stereotypical love story protagonist. "It's very homey," I finally answered.

_Homey_. What an awkward word. Paul looked very homey, and it sounded very sexual in a way, but there was no way I would say that again.

Leah trailed off into her on thoughts, something she had been doing for a year or even longer, and it was kind of disheartening in the middle of the conversation. She'd been my caretaker as a child, and it explained why I had grown to be so awkward in life. If Paul came over, I could explain that it was all Sam's fault for making Leah weird, therefore making me weird.

_Come, Paul, come._

I sighed as he turned to his side to talk to Emily. My mind games were not working. I began to play with the sand, and I could practically feel it crawling down my pants, into uncomfortable places, and I had the nearly uncontrollable urge to scratch. Nearly because I didn't, but I nearly ended up doing it.

The air began to buzz as I saw Old Quil began his track to the fire, and I could feel the droning about to begin. I felt Leah stiffen beside me, and like the forever loyal child I was, I followed her movements and sat up beside her, unwittingly paying attention.

"Long ago when our ancestors first came forth..." Old Quil began. I sighed. I knew the stories by heart with my father's memorizing talents, and Harry Clearwater went on long tales about them with his happy, funny voice before he passed. _Sweet old Harry, you are forever missed._

I put my head on my knees and began to recite the words with in my head, just for something to do.

_Blah, blah, blah…_

I could feel eyes on me as I tried to block out the voice. After the first fifteen minutes, I didn't look to see who was staring; I knew one of them was Paul because he hardly ever took his eyes off of me all night, but I felt more than one pair of eyes was staring, so I didn't dare.

I stayed tense until I heard the words flow a little more softly, coming to an ending. They were a beautiful tale of our tribe. A legend. Legends weren't real, though, and I held no interest in fairytales meant to sooth children, convincing them that they would be safe through the night.

I finally looked up… only finding Paul staring at me and everyone else staring at Paul, as if they were waiting for a decision to come from him.

The decision was a no to whatever the question was, because when he stood up and grabbed his shirt, I heard a collective sigh of recognition cast out through the gathering as they, too, began grabbing their things to leave.

Disappointment flooded through me for some unknown reason, and I felt myself wanting more of something. More of the story or more of the warmth I felt from the people around me? Neither was likely; I just wanted to be alone with Paul.

Paul didn't look disappointed. Kind of rescind to some wait that he didn't like, but not disappointment. It made me feel better from the shock of people hastily saying goodbye to me like a spit on the truth.

After I climbed to my feet, I felt Leah rubbing my arms reassuringly before she also left.

Paul grabbed my hand in his warm one and I felt that it fit perfectly, like finding and putting together two puzzle pieces after searching for them forever… Like a little bite of the heaven that God promised. Effortless.

He walked me to the truck, rubbing soothing circles on my hand, promising that it was okay, whatever was wrong.

I couldn't stay mad at him; I wasn't mad to begin with. He had known me for a little more than a week and had been friends with Sam for a while. I would get him to come to the traitor side eventually.

He drove me home quietly, and I couldn't find the words to fill the space. Growing up with constant chatter from my siblings didn't do me any good in a relationship like this.

Relationship.

I glanced at Paul as he turned into the road. He was glaring out the window. This wasn't a relationship; it might have been before I'd done whatever I'd done to offend everyone. I sighed as I got ready to open the door and tell him that I had a great time, when I felt his hand come back to mine and pull me closer.

I kept my eyes down. I could feel my eyes begin to water from the rejection that I felt emanate. I didn't do well with rejection. I remember when Adam Whitefeather had told me I was too ugly to date him when we'd been in the first grade. I'd hit him with a wristwatch like a whip until he cried like a big baby. He was nice as rain to me since then.

I wouldn't know what to do if Paul said he didn't want to see me anymore... It wouldn't be good.

His hands cupped my face and forced me to look at him. I could feel myself getting ready to bolt for the weed-hacker in the yard. I tried to steer my mind away from the thought as I gazed into his eyes.

His eyes were cloudy and I felt myself melt in his hands as he brought me closer to him. Every thought up to that point had escaped over my head.

His lips where slightly more rough then I had imagined they would be, and still soft in a way, but he pulled away from me before I could get a real grasp on what was going on. It was sweet and his cheeks were slightly rustier than before. I could feel my own cheeks nearly burning off under his hot hands.

I felt myself ghost back into my house in what seemed like a dream like state that I could not drift out off. Our first kiss... my first kiss.

_My first kiss._

Alone and satisfied, I let myself sink to the floor. I touched my lips with my fingertips.

I heard footsteps and when I look up, I saw Dad with a shit-eating grin on his face. "A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous," he said. He began to walk into the kitchen. "That one is by Ingrid Bergman."

AN: Sorry about the delay! I had a very unfortunate that made me feel like an old lady and I don't really want to repeat it… How did you like the way the pack interacted? How about Paul and Holly's first kiss? Also a big thank you to my ever patient beta reader: MusicTwilightLove!

Lucaduca


	7. Falling into the Darkness

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you regonize.

I took a deep breath of the night air, looking at the moon that was hanging high in the sky. It was unusually big, and I felt myself sinking into the sand, letting it care for everything I didn't want to care about. Every worry or grief melted away under the light, relaxing me.

Glancing up, I saw Paul just looking at me with a white glint in his eyes, and I tried to speak but found no noise would come out. I couldn't hear any sound at all. He leaned down, kissing my forehead before continuing down to my lips as he glued them to my own.

I felt my mouth open up to allow his thick tongue to come in, and with every flicker of it I felt a pulsing sensation in my abdomen. I tried to squeeze my legs together to tame it, but it only made it painful.

He slowly brought his arms around me and lifted me until I was straddling him. I broke the kiss for some much deserved air, and looked down at us, where not one piece of clothing was between our bodies. He dragged his teeth down my neck as he came to my breast, and I could feel my eyes rolling back into my head as he gently bit and sucked at the tip. Still no sound came from either of us.

Something was missing… It was sweet, but it was not Paul. I felt my eyes roaming his as I pulled back. His gaze was intense as he lifted my hips and slowly brought them to the point where I felt the pulsating. Gasping as my head hit something hard, I opened my eyes to a cold hard floor. Rolling over and twisting out of the tangle of sheets, I glanced at the clock. Four fifty-three a.m.

It was a dream.

I sighed as I pushed my wet hair out of my eyes. My breathing was still labored as I tried to calm my racing heart and the pulsating sensation I still felt in my more intimate parts.

Groaning, I stood up and raced toward the bathroom, where I stood under an ice cold shower, letting it erase the aching heat from my limbs.

I had a headache again; I'd had a headache since Paul left a week ago today. I hadn't seen him once, and I was beginning to really worry that I had done something to run him off. Grumbling as I turned off the water, I let myself slide down to the freezing tiles. It was probably the kiss. It was my first kiss ever and it had probably been absolutely bad, so bad that he decided that I wasn't worth his time.

He was a very good kisser; it was just a fact of nature. I also knew that he had gotten around town before he met me and decided I wasn't as fun as I originally looked.

I got dressed as slowly, trying to lengthen everything out so time moved more quickly. However, when I looked over at my clock again, I saw that it was only five a.m. The rest of the early morning progressed the same way. I was later tempted to go with my father to the Cleaner's, just to have something occupy my time.  
Around ten that morning, I decided I couldn't just sit around. I also decided that a trip to Port Angeles was the best idea I had all week.

"Momma," I called as I knocked on the door to my mother's office. That was the one rule my parents held above all others: knock first, or you may regret what you see. My mother was sitting at her desk grading a multitude of papers while sipping a cup of coffee. She only gave me a quick wave of the hand and in the process, she spilled a bit of coffee onto the floor.

"Yes, hun?" She got the car keys out of her pocket before I could ask for them and motioned for me to sit down. I had been dreading this, and I had efficiently avoided the conversation about my date for an entire week, which was a new record in the Blake household. "You going out with Mr. Lahote?"

"No, Momma," I replied. I squirmed in my seat. "I don't think we are going out on another date."

Mom really was beautiful, even with the frown that marred her face. "Why not, sweetie?"

That was the question I had been dreading, and I felt myself start to sweat, a nervous habit. "It didn't go that great." _For him...  
_  
"Oh..." She rubbed her forehead and I winced; I hated making her upset, and it made me partially mad at Paul for making me make her upset. "Are you going to Port Angeles?" she asked.

I nodded at her and tried to make my smile more believable for her sake. I had known the guy for a week and I was already depressed that he didn't want to see me again. I was pitiful.

"Be careful," she told me as she handed me the keys and some money for gas and other various things. My parents had another rule: if you help around the house, then you will receive money when you ask for it, within reason.

I gave her a quick wave as I ran through the house and into the La Push morning, only to be greeted by my favorite person in the world: Leah Clearwater.

"I figured you might have wanted to go shopping after the hellish week you've had," she said, smiling down at me. She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards her sedan, in which we had nicknamed "Bertha" a few years ago.

Bertha had been a loyal car from the very start and she had taught me how to drive as much as Leah had. Taylor tried first, but after the eighth time of me almost running off into a tree, he decided that his patience was not what needed to teach me to drive.

With Bertha, though, I learned to drive pretty well... I only hit mailboxes every other day now.

I smiled over at Leah, whose fingers where drumming to the beat of an old Britney Spears song.

"How do you like Paul?" she suddenly asked. I snapped my head in her direction. What brought that on?

I took a second to think. "He's really sweet ..." I trailed off. Then I heard a snort of laughter from her. "What?"

Leah sighed as she ran a hand through her short hair. "Paul just has a bad temper, and I have never heard his name and 'sweet' in the same sentence."

I frowned at her; Paul never lashed out at me in any way, and I hadn't seen him get extremely angry in a while, but I let it go. I don't want to fight with Leah; she probably had a good reason to not like him or she was just being a hag. I instantly felt terrible for thinking that, no matter how true it was likely to be.

We arrived in Port Angeles without another word spoken between us, and the silence was overwhelmingly awkward, though when the shopping began, all traces of our almost-argument were forgotten.

We were sitting in a Denny's around six that night, and I was irritated with myself; I had never _not_ been able to forget everything when I was with Leah, but the thoughts of Paul just kept on coming without a break. It was no longer a,_"Do I think I look good in this?"_ It was now a, _"Would Paul think I would look good in this?"_

The headache was not forgotten either, and it seemed to be growing with time. Sighing as I picked at my food, I looked up to see Leah on her fifth waffle and finally slowing down. How could one girl eat so much food at one time?

I felt myself shudder as each moment passed on, and I was sure I was going to be sick… until I heard the door jingle. I then felt every nerve in my body slow down.

"Fucking hell, Leah!" a voice bellowed. I knew that voice. "Did you forget that you had motherfucking patrol, or are you just such a selfish bitch that you decided to dump it?"

I definitely knew that voice and it's sad to say that I shuddered when I heard it. "I didn't forget," Leah snapped. "I guess I'm just a selfish bitch, you asshole."

"Leah!" I said it before I could help myself. I didn't even know why I said it… A maternal instinct to protect Paul?

Leah's gaze hardened at me as she stood up. "Sorry, Holly, I didn't mean to hurt your puppy." I stared in shock as she grabbed her bag and ran out of the restaurant before I could even gather my items.

Leah had never been mad at me, much less glared at me, and I felt and rebel streak through me at what she had said about Paul.

_Paul._

I whipped my head around to see him standing there and slightly shaking. How had he tracked Leah down all the way from La Push?

Even as the hurt from what Leah had said coursed through me, I also felt a feeling of content. Of being home, standing there in front of him.

"I'm sorry," he told me, "I would never have interrupted her if I knew you were here."

I felt tears jerk at my eyes as he stood there and was so blunt about not wanting to see me again. It hurt more than it should.

I hung my head and turned back to my waffle that I had been picking at, hoping that Leah would return soon and we could head home.

No sooner did I turn around and saw that Paul had sat down in the seat where Leah had vacated.

I glanced up at him as he talked to the waitress who I saw was giving him lustful looks. I felt an acid burn in my stomach as she pointed to the menu, grazing his hand while she was at it.

He wasn't paying her any attention, though; he kept his eyes on the menu and glanced up at me as if to make sure I was still there.

It would have been a lovely feeling if he hadn't just plainly told me he didn't want to see me again. The waitress left with the nine different orders Paul had placed. and for a fleeting second, I wish she would have stayed… until she winked at him.

"Did you have a good time Saturday?" he asked. I felt his gaze on me, and I was at a loss of words. I could lie and tell him no, just so he wouldn't think I was pathetic, or I could tell the truth and have my heart break a little more by his laugh.

"Yes," I finally replied. I'd never been a good liar; Momma had said I didn't have a lying bone in my body, and now I wished I did.

Paul looked up from where the waitress had placed his food, and he smiled at me. "That's good to hear. I was afraid I'd ran you off."

Shock was the first thing I felt, then amusement, and then I felt a small smile spread onto my lips. "I thought the same thing."

"You could never run me off, only if you tell me to leave." He sounded so sincere as he reached across the table and grabbed my chilled hand into his own much warmer one.

I felt any tension that I'd had over the past week completely and utterly erase from my body as he gently rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand. The only thing that came to my mind as he was eating was the dream I had this morning, and I felt myself blushing from just the thought.

"Your cheeks are red," Paul stated as he brought his hand to cup my check. I lifted my own to the hold that was placed. I felt myself let out a small sigh as the warmth from him spread through me. It was February and it was still below freezing.

He smiled at me as he took his last few bites of food. "Do you mind me taking you home?"

"I don't mind," I said as I breathed in his scent of peppermint. "I think my ride left me."

"I think she did, too," he chuckled. He took his hand from mine and I groaned in irritation from losing the heat. "Let me pay for you food. You know, for compensation."

I didn't have time to argue as he quickly gave the waitress the money. "Keep the change," he told her.

He never took his eyes off of me, as if trying to figure out the key to my mind. I didn't feel uncomfortable from his staring; it felt as if it was meant to happen, but the silence was becoming awkward.

He stood up and I followed him, shrugging into my coat as we continued out the door into his truck. I couldn't deal with silence. It made me twitchy and not even Paul could extinguish that. So as "defiance mechanism," as Momma had dubbed it, I blurted out something that had the potential to be embarrassing, such as "moo" or "quack" or—

"I like you!"

I'd uttered out something to just fill the silence, and I immediately regretted it when he swerved off the road in most likely horror.

I felt my face heat up in embarrassment and I felt my hands start to flutter, trying to find a way to fix the shit that I had caused. I glanced over to see his face, not quite ready to see the horror that laid there. However, instead of what I expected his face to be, he looked happy. A smile from ear to ear and a look of relief that passed over his face, and I felt my own face relax into relief.

He grabbed my hands into his own after he placed the car into park, gently molding them to fit his hands perfectly. "I lo—ike you, too."

I laughed into the space between us as he grew closer, and I felt myself wet my lips in anticipation. My head was in the clouds. I nearly felt intoxicated. His eyes closed, and I felt like I was flying when his lips finally hit my own.

It was still sweet like the first one we'd had, but it was different—much more what I thought kissing Paul would be. I groaned as his teeth caught my lower lip and sucked on it slightly before I felt his hot tongue melt into my mouth. He tasted like waffles and peppermint, and it was like my own personal addiction. I felt myself rising up to get more of him.

It seemed that my mind kept on getting fuzzier as he started to kiss down my neck, and I felt the now familiar throbbing in my abdomen. His teeth grazed right under my ear, causing me to moan, before biting down and making a slight popping noise. It felt like everything in me broke loose and I was falling into darkness.

AN: Chapter 7! Sorry about it being a little late. How did you guys like it? Anything you would like to see, I am open for suggestions. I also put up different pictures for a few of the Blake's, they were just to perfect before. All a big round of applauses for my wonderful BETA reader MusicTwilightLove for putting up with my mistakes and making this story a little more enjoyable… I suggest looking at some of her stories which are mainly focused around Bella/Jacob, I love them!

See you soon,

Lucaduca


	8. The Heartache

"Holly."

I could feel someone shaking me from the warmth I was under, trying to take me away from it. I tried to sink back into the comfort, but the person wouldn't let me. "Holly, please wake up."

I let myself float back to the surface—back to the cold—and when I felt my eyes flutter, I was struck with the magnificence of Paul. _My_ Paul. "Where am I?" I murmured.

Paul laughed from above me as he cradled me. "In my truck," he replied. "You clonked out."

"I..." I could feel myself begin to remember the events in feverish detail. "I fainted!" I exclaimed.

Who passes out when kissing someone? Well, people like Kim Conweller did. She was dating Paul's best friend, so maybe I shouldn't have been so mean, but she was just quiet... and weird.

"You got overheated, nothing to be blushing about," Paul assured me. I felt my shoulders scrunch up at the casual tone Paul had. "We'll just need to remember to roll down the window next time," he added.

_Next time._

I nearly did a little jig in my seat as I flashed what I hoped to him was a glowing grin. He laughed as he pulled away slightly so he could pull back from the road.

"How high does your temperature run?" I asked.

He glanced over at me as if he was doing a serious debate in his head. "Right around a hundred and eight degrees Fahrenheit." He peeked at me from under his lashes while saying this, to see if I freaked out. I did, silently in my head. _How is he not dead?_

"That's cool," I replied. I grimaced at the slight hysterical sound that came with it; I'd never been good with different, and I had a feeling that that was all that Paul was. _Different._

"It is nice not to have to wear a shirt all the time," Paul said, winking at me, "it's also nice to have a good body to do so with."

My cheeks heated, and I mentally congratulated myself for not spontaneously combusting in my seat like I wanted to.

I felt myself slowly unwind from whatever tension that had come with me when Leah left. I felt my mood darken considerably at the thought of my most beloved person. I couldn't think of any reason that she would have gotten angry.

Leah had always been the one I could go to if I was feeling angry, and I was as much at a loss of what to do with Angry Leah as I was with Heartbroken Leah. I considered asking Paul, but then I quickly dismissed the idea, because I had to face it: Paul Lahote didn't do unfazed.

I felt my hand involuntarily tighten around Paul's as we reached La Push, not wanting to go home yet and explain why Leah had dumped me. I wasn't angry with Leah; I could never be angry at Leah. Irritated, yes, but not angry.

Paul pulled into the driveway and I nearly choked on relief at seeing no one at home. I gave my best smile at Paul as he looked at me. I could never read people and Paul was no different; all I could see was smiles and fluffy shit on him, which was where I called bullshit.

He wrapped his arms around me after he pulled us out of the truck, and began halfway carrying me to the front porch. Once we reached it, I turned to face him and his warm body.

"So..." I began. _Smooth, Holly. Real smooth._

"So?" His face split into a cheeky grin as he slowly pushed me against the door. Sliding his nose along my temple and I could hear a sniffling sound come from him, as if he took a whiff of me. Smelling was weird, right?

He didn't last long there, quickly moving down to place a slight kiss on my lips, and I was disappointed when he pulled away. "We need a well-ventilated area to do things anymore, remember?" he asked.

I felt a slight scowl adorn my face as he backed his way down the stairs. "Goodnight, Holly," he told me.

I gave him a small smile as I awkwardly waved back to him. "Don't let the bed bugs bite," I called. His laughter drifted away after I walked into the house and locked the door behind me. I could feel the jitters still burning down my back as I made my way into the kitchen for a snack.

I picked up a note on my way to the fridge. _"Went to visit Sue Clearwater, be back by midnight."_I snorted to myself; Dad and Momma going to see Mrs. Clearwater actually meant going to go get drunk on wine with Chief Swan and Mrs. Clearwater.

Padding to my room after getting some cookies and milk, I settled at my desk, where I pulled out two pieces of paper: _"Weird things about Paul Lahote"_ and _"Why Leah went into bitch mode on me."_

I scooted the second one out of the way; I didn't want to cross that bridge yet:

_Weird things about Paul Lahote:_

_1. Temperature runs right around 108 degrees.  
2. The sniffing.  
3. Eating habits.  
4. Unnatural growth in a period of two weeks (now nicknamed UNG).  
5. Temper problems nearly got worse after the UNG.  
6. The staring at the restaurant and the weird looks at me after that.  
7. Dogs unnaturally attracted to him (particularly Mr. Snots).  
8. The shaking.  
9. Being able to remember the extremely little things that I mention.  
10. Something like a sixth sense he has about me._

I glared down at the table as I took in my sloppy handwriting. He had to be on drugs, and if I was wrong, then I would believe the tribal legends were true, though he did act like an overgrown dog at times.

I sighed for the billionth time that night as I shoved the offending piece of paper away from my sight, and then I grabbed the second piece of paper.

_Why Leah went into bitch mode on me:_

_1. Paul supports Sam and Emily.  
2. She's jealous.  
3. She has secretly hated me all her life.  
4. She likes Paul.  
5. The legends are true; therefore "imprinting" is real, too._

I giggled at the last one; trying to amuse myself was an interesting thing. But I had a niggling in the back of my head, as if trying to make me see a new light of things, and I tried to squish it for some unknown reason.

It took effect quickly, though, and it made me see the impossible: legends, strength, dogs unnaturally attracted, eating insane amounts of foods, imprinting…

I ripped the tribal legends from the top of the bookshelf; Mr. Clearwater had given this to me a week before he passed, saying that he had a feeling I would need it. I instantly turned to the legend about Chief Taha Aki:

_"He asked the animal if he could share his body with him, and the wolf complied."_

I looked down at Snots, who had been perched in my lap, his big round eyes looking as if they were going to start bugging out like he had come to the same realization as I had. Our Paul was a spirit warrior.

I felt the bile rise out of my throat and I barely made it to the bathroom in time. I pressed my head onto the cold tile, trying to forget the waffle-coming-back-up taste. I could feel the tremors slowly start to subside; the spirit warriors weren't anything to be scared of, and that was not what was bothering me. Imprinting was.

If Paul was a spirit warrior, then that was what Leah would be, too. I thought that only men could turn into the wolves, though, and I was suddenly wishing I could talk to Leah.

I shook the thought out of my head as I tried to come to terms with the phasing-into-gigantic-wolves part... but it only drifted me back to the thing that Lillian and I had spent our childhood days dreaming about. Imprinting.

_"At seeing the Third Wife's face for the first time, Chief Taha Aki was awakened that the land no longer held him root; she did." Dad glanced at Lillian and I, who were perched on the table taking in the story with avid attention. Lillian was seven and I was four._

_"Go on, Daddy. Tell us about how he made her fall in love with him!" Lillian face broke out into a dreamy gaze as she stared at our dad._

_"Well, first, he built her a wall of lilies that put the rest of the flowers to shame," Dad said, tapping Lillian on the nose. "Except one flower that was just as beautiful and just as bright."_

_Dad broke off and pretended to ponder for a second on what the second one was. Lillian and I tried to hide our giggles; we had already heard this story a million times, but to a child's mind, it didn't matter._

_"Holly!" Lillian squealed. "Daddy it was holly!" Lillian knocked me on the shoulder and grinned over at me. "Holly was the one that was just as beautiful!"_

_"Ah! Yes, holly and lilies are the most beautiful flowers, and even Chief Taha Aki knew it."  
_  
I smiled at the memory as I faced the mirror. If they really were spirit warriors, then Paul imprinted on me and my childhood fantasy finally came true.

I brushed my teeth in glee at the realization that Paul was most likely my soul mate. Maybe Leah imprinted on Sam and that was why she was so hung up on him.

I suddenly felt my toothbrush drop out of my hand as a glared into the mirror. A bomb seemed to drop into my stomach. Sam was most likely a spirit warrior, too, which meant that if Leah was his soul mate, then he should be the same thing for her… but all he seemed to be focused on was a goal to hurt her. Sam had to have imprinted on Emily, Leah's cousin, then. At this realization, I tried to ignore the burn that signaled the toothpaste was creating blisters on my gums. Imprinting had taken Sam away from Leah.

I felt my heart break at the thought that Leah knew that Sam and Emily where imprints, which also meant that she knew about Paul and I.

Imprinting meant taking Sam away from Leah, effectively ending any kind of future that had been set for her. Imprinting meant taking me from Leah and leaving her all alone. I groaned at the thought of upsetting Leah even more, even if all I really wanted was Paul.

Leah had bent over backwards for me time and time again, never once putting herself before my own happiness. I could feel the tears leak through now. I'd disappointed Leah by staying with Paul instead of her.

I spat out the toothpaste that had managed to make my gums raw. I then headed to the hall phone, not wanting to think about what I was doing until it was already done and over with. The tears wouldn't stop flowing.

I picked up the phone and dialed the phone number that I had memorized. I heard the line ring, and I nearly hung it up right before I heard it stop.

"Holly?"

Leah's voice in my mind was telling me that she would always be there for me.

"Paul," I began sternly. I steeled myself for the heartache. "We need to talk."

A/N: Do I need to duck or cover or are you guys in a state of shock? Holly knows the secret! But the real question is if Leah will get over the imprinting funk and let Holly go from her nest… or if Holly will want to fly away? Big thanks to my beta reader MusicTwilightLove who is still as awesome as ever. What did you guys think of how Holly has decided to handle things? How do you think Paul is going to handle everything?

With Love,

Lucaduca

PS. I am creating a sound track for this story and if any one has any suggestions considering this is as much as my story as it is yours that would be extremely helpful!


	9. Imprinted

Disclaimer: I own Twilight and I am also a compulsive lier….

I sat on the front steps, waiting for Paul to pull up. _It would be easier_, I tried to tell myself, _if I could escape into the house if I started waning._

I had also made the decision to play ignorant on the tribal legends, where he played a major role. It would make everything much easier I told myself that Leah would be happy.

I exhaled and watched the white swirls twirl into the darkness, and for a split second I wished I could follow them. However, I would be spending my time tomorrow and the next day at the library, reading and rereading the ancient tales of our people, ultimately finding a way to break the imprint.

Tears began to gather behind my eyelids again as I thought over imprinting; the main thing I had dreamt about as a child had come to a startlingly truth. There was nothing romantic about being forced to love and protect another human being. I would not put Paul into that position; I would not be Emily Young.

Tears were traitors. They nearly ran out of control at the sight of Paul's truck. I would not be selfish, though, like Emily. I stood from the step and tried not to focus on Paul's body as he slowly came towards me; I didn't need to be horny when breaking my own heart.

"Holly?" he greeted me. "Hun, what's wrong?" He took a step onto the stairs and I took two back; distance would be for the best.

"Paul," I said, eventually breaking off. I didn't know what to say and I would feel myself start to waver as his gaze hit me with worry.

Sticking his hand out to me, I slammed my back into the door and I fought desperately for the tears not to escape. Quickly and easily I chanted, "Paul we can't see each other anymore."

The traitors where burning now, and all I wanted to do was let them escape. Leah's voice echoed in my head. _"If they see tears, then you lose."_

"What?" he asked slowly.

I started wishing there was more oxygen near me as my breaths swiftly turned into gasps. His eyes seemed to bore into my own with a look of confusion.

I shifted my feet around and subconsciously grabbed onto the door handle, ready to dart inside like a frightened bunny. "I said that we can't see each other anymore."

Definitely and stubbornly, he replied, "No."

I could feel myself wanting to listen to him, to allow him to make all the decisions. But... "Paul, we can't!" I objected. I couldn't even breathe anymore, and my knees seemed to grow jelly molds for strength.

"Why?" He reached out for me again, and I jerked myself away from the door to the side of the porch. If he touched me, it would end any resolve in my body to end this thing. This beautiful thing.

"Because…" I searched my head for any type of reason that would sound believable in my own ears. "…We don't have chemistry."

He backed me into the corner of the porch and I could smell the peppermint roll off of him in waves of heat. I just wanted to let my head be consumed with the warmth and smell of Paul Lahote. "We can make chemistry," he murmured.

Stupid, loving, caring, stubborn Paul. My body caved into him, and in an act of desperation, I screamed at him, "I don't want to make chemistry, Paul!"

He was backing away finally and I nearly reached to pull him back to me. "You don't mean that."

I blinked back the tears. "I do." _Leah better love me more than anyone else after this_, I thought.

"I understand."

My eyes slammed back up to his face in my own shock. _No, you don't understand._

"I'm Paul Lahote," he continued, "La Push's very own trouble child." He had a resigned look on his face and I wanted to argue with him, but I couldn't unglue my mouth without the tears escaping.

"My own mother didn't want me… She told me I ruined her life and I would ruin anyone else's I tried to enter, and that no one would ever want me." He wasn't shaking, but his eyes held some other anger that I had never seen before: self-loathing. "So yes, I understand."

_Stupid asshole_, I wanted to scream at him for thinking such things, for letting his bitch of a mother plant stupid lies into his head. I held them all in, though. _Leah_, I repeated like a mantra in my head. _You're doing this for Leah._

He bent down in front of me, and I could feel the splinters dig into my hands. I tried to grip something for a lifeline.

His hot hands cupped my face. I slammed my eyes shut to keep in the tears that had started to leak out,

"I'm sorry."

I could smell the peppermint of his breath, and the hot air that bowled over my face sent my body haywire. "I have always been and always will be a selfish bastard," he told me.

"Paul?" I whimpered. I was embarrassed with my weak voice after trying so hard to put on a strong front for him.

"I'm sorry, Holly, but I have to do this one last time."

The heat seemed to surround me; it seemed to break into every nook and cranny of my body, sending it a sauna, and his lips hit mine.

I felt the traitors begin their race down my face as his kisses grew more desperate and jerky. I could feel him and all I wanted to do was to tell him to stay.

And then he was gone. I snapped open my eyes, glancing around desperately for him. The heat lingered on me as I darted for the door, shutting it as quickly as I could. Even the door of our safe house couldn't keep out the howls of a wolf. I sunk to the floor, desperately grasping for something—_anything_—to make the pain go away.

I dimly noted the door opening behind me and someone lifting me from the floor. I groaned in protest as my body was rocked.

"What have you done, Holls?"

_Leah._

I grasped onto her as she laid me onto something soft. She was not leaving; she was the only one other than Paul himself that could take away the pain.

Leah hesitated for a moment, looking out the window at something before laying down next to me, gently pulling me into a warm embrace, and softly smoothing out my hair. I wanted to tell her badly that I'd chosen her, like when she'd chosen me over Sam.

I felt a new wave of tears and pain crash onto me like the waves at First Beach. I'd been sick the day Sam imprinted on Emily—something like the twenty-four hour flu—and my mom had asked Leah if she would stay with me.

Leah had supposed to meet Emily at the diner for their monthly lunch, but she'd decided to have Sam go in her place and tell Emily that she was sorry for not being able to make it. They had been going to talk about bridesmaid dresses. I'd ruined her chances with the future she had dreamed about. Fucking imprinting.

Leah's voice was soft and it seemed to wash over me like a security blanket. "Do you want to talk?"

"No," I replied. I was surprised I could talk, even if it burned like I was swallowing hot coals.

One of the most amazing things about Leah Clearwater was that she asked only once and then allowed you to come to her. "I just want you to stay here with me," I mumbled.

"Always." I felt her hum against my head as I drifted back into the black abyss, and nightmares were included.

I woke up several times throughout the night because of them. Paul was always running away from me telling me I wasn't good enough for him and I never would be. Every time I jolted awake in tears, Leah would be there, supplying a constant stream of assurance that everything was going to be okay.

I woke up the final time at six in the morning. Leah slept next to me with a frown on her face. My face matched hers.

Sighing, I got up from the bed and made my way to the bathroom. I felt awful, and the dull ache of a headache began pounding more relentlessly with every step I took. I stepped into the shower without taking off of my clothes and turned it on at full heat, trying to mimic the heat that Paul gave off with no avail.

I sunk to the tile as another round of tears set off. What had I done to him, and to myself? Maybe I should have let just let Leah suffer; this pain didn't seem worth it anymore.

_No._

Leah had gone through this before and she would have gone through it again if I had chosen Paul. I pulled my wet clothes off of me and threw them into the hamper. I could deal with the pain if Leah could; I owed it to her.

I didn't know how long I sat in the shower, but it was long enough for Dad to start pounding on the door, saying shit like, "The bladder is a very delicate thing, and it not need to be tampered with."

I walked back into my room to find my bed empty and I began to panic that Leah had left… until I saw her in my closet, going through my boxes of old shit that I didn't want to give up. I was such a closet hoarder.

She pulled something long and pink from the bottom of a "you-really-need-to-get-rid-of-this-shit" box. The pink monstrosity hit me in the face, and when I looked down, I realized it was the blanket Sam had given me for my tenth birthday, as "something to keep you warm on cold days."

I glared down at it and glanced up to Leah for an explanation on why she wanted to me to hold the pink traitor.

"Sam had your best interest in heart," she said. Leah looked pained, and I suddenly wanted to burn the blanket. "And he gave that to you so that you knew that if someone wasn't there to protect you from the monsters, that you had him."

"Bullshit," I replied. I was not in a good mood and I was not taking any comfort from Sam Uley since _he_ was the main reason for whatever mess this was: the broken heart, I'd dubbed it.

"Holls," Leah began. She was near tears, and I wanted to strangle Sam with the pink blanket. "Sam and I…" She took a deep breath. "We weren't made for each other."

"Who gets to decide that?" I questioned her, my sadness turning to anger with every passing moment.

"Someone out of our reach." Leah walked up next to me and hugged me. "Sam and Emily ... they just fit together like puzzle pieces and even I can see that."

I jerked away from her and thumped down the stairs. "Oh, really? So you're fine with it? You're fine with being the maid of honor at their wedding if Emily asked you?"

I turned back toward where she was standing at the top of the stairs. "You would forgive them for everything they put you through?"

Her face was troubled as she tried to unravel her answer. "Yes." My eyes went back to her from where they were looking out the window at Taylor's truck, where he was trying to pull out something that looked like a opened beach umbrella.

"If it meant enough to her," Leah said, "I would be in her wedding... Hell! I would be the minister if it meant that much to her." She looked sure of herself, and I turned my gaze back to Taylor who had finally managed to pull out the umbrella, but only to have it land in the mud.

"Would you do the same for me?" I asked her, watching Taylor get up from the ground and hulk smash the umbrella into the mud enough times to smash it in half.

"I would do even more." I heard her laughter from the top of the stairs, and I tore my gaze from Taylor and back up to her. "I would sneak under the bed of your honeymoon suite," she continued, "and give you advice for your first time with Paul, if that would make you happy."

I laughed at her joke. "So you would be fine with Paul and I?"

She walked down the stairs, smiled down at me, and stroked my hair. I suddenly wished that she was actually my big sister, which was really the same wish I'd had all my life. "I would be ecstatic if you never had to feel the pain of heartache," she told me. "Paul would never do that to you."

I laughed at her as I gripped her tighter. Now I just had to apologize to Paul and convince him to forgive me.

"Fucking umbrella, fucking getting stuck..." I laughed again as I turned to face Taylor.

He was leering at Leah. "Leah Clearwater, where have you been all my life?" he asked.

I smiled back at Leah, but her gaze was lost, and something like adoration came over her features. I followed her gaze to Taylor and I realized that she had just imprinted.

AN: Chapter 9 my darlings? How do you like the turn of events? A huge thanks to the best BETA reader in the world: MusicTwilightLove. I have a bit of the playlist in process but if you wasn't to give suggestions for the ones that are blank; you would be awesome!

Playlist:

Main Theme: The Lucky Ones – Lana Del Ray

Holly and Paul:

Leah and Holly:

Taylor and Leah: Porcelain - Lucy Schwartz

With Love,

Lucaduca


	10. Exactly

__Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or my own thoughts which are controlled by my evil twin; Tabatha.

_Take a deep breath and just knock on the door._

I was standing out the Lahote household, trying to gather the courage to do what felt like the impossible. The house was cute and I could tell that it was well taken care of. It was surprisingly colorful, too.

I took another deep breath and knocked, cringing back when it sounded more like a death punch than the dainty rap I was going for. I fiddled around with my mother's car keys as I waited for my doom. _What if he doesn't take me back?_ I thought.

I tried to steer my thoughts away from those nightmares; they were along the lines of the other thoughts that I had all morning. _What if he didn't really imprint on me?_

There were far too many questions that made me want to beat my head hard against the door in frustration. If he did take me back, then there was no way I was bringing up the werewolf thing... It would be _more_ than embarrassing if he told me he didn't imprint on me after asking. It was just better to play dumb, I'd concluded.

I shuffled a bit more as I heard some banging and curses that came from within the house. It was definitely Paul. His father, Mr. Lahote, had seemed much more like a gazelle in a field rather than a werewolf in a china shop. I was wrong.

Mr. Lahote opened the front door looking just as handsome as his son, and I was more than surprised at his eye color. It was a grassy green that I was honestly jealous of.

"Hi..." I faltered. I shifted around a bit in uncertainty. "Is Paul here?"

As I saw Mr. Lahote shift his paper under his left arm to his right, straightening out in a cat-like way, I knew that this was a bad idea. He was undeniably scary, and he didn't have to be a spirit warrior to do so.

Mr. Lahote was considered a bastard in our small community, never giving anyone the time. The woman in my father's gossip group concluded that he had hit his wife and Paul. That was why she'd packed up her bags and left. I didn't know what I was thinking when I started dating Paul. How I could avoid his ass of a father forever?

Then he smiled, and I nearly fell in love with him. It was Paul's smile and it took my breath away; the laughter in his eyes seemed like grass blowing in the wind.

"Holly," he said delightedly. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me into a hug. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

My eyes where wide as saucers, I was sure of it. Where was the mean man everyone was always talking about? "Uh…"

"Come in, come in." He grabbed my hand and pulled me inside quickly, planting me on the couch. "What would you like to drink? We have coffee, orange juice, nearly every soda I can think of… Darling?"

I could only splutter to myself, utterly confused. I probably looked like a Venus flytrap as I tried to get something to come out... I was in a nice little state of shock, and I couldn't get my brain to catch up to anything in the present.

He flew back into the kitchen and carried out two cans of soda. "Paul told me that your favorite drink was Root-beer," he started, "and I began stocking it up in the house in case you decided to finally come over."

"Thank you," I managed to say, and my face immediately burned at how meek it sounded. I was such a girl sometimes.

"You're welcome, princess." I felt myself blush even more when he started staring almost as if he was giving me an assessment. "Paul wasn't lying about your beauty," he went on, "though I'm not one to judge, considering I like dicks."

I chocked on a sip of God's gift to man. "Excuse me?"

He blinked at me a few times before giving me a coy grin. "He didn't tell you." It wasn't a question, and I felt myself blink several times trying to clear the fog that had started to fill my brain at the sight of his eyes sparkling with glee. "I'm more into the men department, princess," he clarified.

"That explains a lot." It slipped out before I could catch it and I quickly slapped my mouth my hand. He just laughed it off, apparently finding my foot-in-the-mouth syndrome endearing.

"It does, doesn't it?" He smiled at his bright living room and I looked in envy at the neat household; I was a messy person and I only cleaned when I was forced to. "Paul always said that even though he lost his mother, he got a mother and father in her place."

I smiled at him and gently turned my can around in my hand. "You did a very good job playing the roles," I agreed. How could I have ever believed that he was a hard-ass? I really needed to stop listening to the gossip mill.

"Paul says so, too," he replied, "but it's not the same as having a real mother there for him." His eyes never wavered from mine. "It was my fault that his mother left; me not being attracted to her really put a damper onto the relationship."

I took another sip, not really knowing what to say, but remembering the other night when Paul said it was his fault rang clear within my mind. "Your loss," I spoke softly as I gazed at the man in front of me.

"Yeah." He reached out and gripped my hand. "She never got to see her son grow into a man, and she will never get the joys of seeing his children." He began bouncing in his seat. "So when will that be?"

Mr. Lahote and I sat and talked about Paul's childhood before I remembered the reason I was there for. "Where is Paul?" I asked.

"My God!" He quickly stood up and began dragging me towards a hallway. "I completely forgot why you were here!" He stopped at the third door to the left, flinging it open before I could protest him pushing me in and closing the door.

I nearly reached back and wretched it back open, but instead, I stilled myself and slowly turned around to face the spacious room. Paul was asleep in his king-sized bed, hugging a ragged teddy bear to his chest. I smiled at him. _An angel in disguise._ I slowly made my way to his bed.

He tightened his teddy to his chest every few seconds, and his lips were moving. He didn't utter a sound. I slowly lowered to the bed and shook his shoulder. "Paul." I shook him slightly harder, and he woke from his sleep. I had a slight suspicion that it wasn't my shaking that did it.

"Holly?" He made his way to sit up, but I automatically put my hand on his chest, gesturing for him to lie back down. He complied.

"No talking," I told him. Then I took a deep breath, remembering the speech I had prepared all morning. "Paul, I am so, so, so, _so_ sorry. I was a stupid little girl who didn't know what she was saying last night. I was afraid of what we were, and I tried to use an excuse to run away from it. I would spend every day for the rest of my life trying to win you back." I sent a quick prayer to God for allowing me to get that all out like I wanted to.

He didn't blink at all for a good minute as we sat there looking at each other. "Give me a second chance, Paul," I said. I gripped his hand into two of my own. "Just one more chance."

I couldn't stop him the second time he tried to rise up, catching me by surprise when his arms circled themselves into me in a bone-crushing hug. "You never lost the first chance," he assured me. The warmth of him seemed to enfold me and melt me into oblivion.

He pulled back too soon, and quickly set me as far as he could away from him as possible. The panic seemed to set me in a vice grip as I searched my mind for what I could have done so quickly.

"Before you agree to be with me in any shape or form, I need to tell you something important," he began, taking a shuddering breath. I reached out my hand towards him, and he jerked back before I could touch him. "No touching me until I'm finished," he said.

I blinked back the rejected tears before they had the chance to fall. "Okay."

"I am a… I'm a…"

I smiled at his nervousness as I launched across the bed into his tense body. "You're a spirit warrior," I finished for him as I curled myself into his lap. His mouth hung open and I gently closed it. "You're going to catch flies if you keep it hanging open like that," I told him easily.

"Who told you?" he demanded. I felt the growl more than I heard it, and from the vibrations, I knew it was time for me to get away from him. He seemed to have the same idea because I was thrown from his lap and onto the other side of the floor while he stood by the door.

"No one told me, Paul." It came out as more of a gasp of air, and the telltale sign of a blush framed my cheeks. "I figured it out; you guys aren't as suave as you think you are."

I reached my hand out towards him again, and this time he gently took it into his own, looking me in the eyes as he lowered himself back onto the bed. "So, you are fine with it?" he asked quietly.

"Would I be here if I wasn't?" I questioned. He gave me a soft smile in return, and somewhere in my mind I knew it was reserved just for me.

"No," he replied, glancing back up at me. "So why did you say you didn't want to see me anymore the night before?"

_Here comes the hard part…_ "Imprinting." I sighed as it was the only word I could think of, and I felt the wall of defense building up around me at the thought of rejection. I glanced towards the gun on the wall before blinking away quickly. I definitely did not need to be rejected while that was in the room with us.

"I'm sorry—" he began… but I hit him with the table lamp before I could even process the words or for him to get them all out. I winced at the sharp crack it made into the beautiful lamp. He blinked at me once or twice before continuing on like I hadn't even hit him with the heavy weapon. "—that you feel forced to love me because I imprinted on you."

I stared at him much longer than I meant to before settling the lamp on the bedside table sheepishly. "It's not because you imprinted on me or that I feel forced to love you, Paul." I picked at a ball of lint on his sheets. "It's because of what I thought Sam did to Leah."

He began but I cut him off. "Sam didn't mean to break Leah's heart—"

"I know that now," I said as I glanced up from my hands and into his dark brown eyes. He'd gotten those from his mother. "I thought I was betraying her when I agreed to date you," I said, trying to explain to him my stupidity as best as I could. I grimaced when it still didn't make much sense in the air as it did in my mind.

"But you weren't," he disagreed. "Leah will get over it in time." He sighed as he drew me closer. "Leah has come a long way since our pack split in two."

"Two?" I repeated as I moved on to playing with his fingers.

"That's a story for another day," he told me, gently pressing me into his warm body. "Do you understand imprinting completely?"

I shook my head no I tried to tighten myself into the never-ending source of heat. He pulled me away from him so he could look down at me. "Sam and Jake both say that it's like the Earth no longer holds you to the ground; the imprint does. And without her, it would be like gravity never existed." He chuckled down at me. "I say that it's like my heart stopped beating for me and started beating for you."

I blushed as I gazed down at my hands that he was rubbing between his own. "I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy, whether if it means mentally _or_ physically happy."

"So let me get this straight," I said as I gazed into his eyes. "Me accepting the imprint would be like unleashing the wolf from his cage?"

My body quivered from the single finger tracing my nose, and his face stretched into a lazy grin as he tweaked the end of it. "Exactly."

I smiled at him as he leaned down and kissed me, and just like the first time, he kept it short and sweet. I was still as breathless as I had been in the car, and I felt myself melting into the bed.

"Holly?"

I closed my eyes at his voice saying my name. "Yes?"

"What changed your mind about us?" He caressed my cheek and I hummed in content.

"Leah went into some deep meaning shit about how Sam and Emily where meant for each other," I moaned as he gently rubbed my neck and I felt him twitch under me. "Then she imprinted on Taylor."

He stopped his movements and I groaned in protest. "Leah imprinted on your brother?" he asked, bewildered.

Leah's voice filtered into my mind. _"Don't mention Taylor to any of the guys; they're a little protective and I want to get to know him well before they tear into him."_ I snapped my eyes open, noticing my mistake as Paul's shaking filled the room.

_Shit._

AN: Chapter 10! How do you like Paul's dad? Anything that you noticed that you would have done different? I reached more than 50 reviews, you guys are without a doubt the best little readers out there! There is a new poll on my profile concerning a story I have thought of writing and I would appreciate it if you could give me your own thoughts. Also the playlist is in works and if you have any suggestions for the blanks, I would be more than happy to take them with open arms.

With Love,

Lucaduca


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